


Taken Away to Our Own Side

by freyjawriter24



Series: Writing prompts and challenges [6]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Extended Metaphors, First Kiss, M/M, No Dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:35:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freyjawriter24/pseuds/freyjawriter24
Summary: Sometimes words aren't quite enough to make yourself truly understood. And they always did say that actions speak louder.***Written for the GO Events server's Name That Author Round 6 prompt "No conversation's a good place to start... I wanna speak in tongues" fromSpeak in Tonguesby Ferras. The challenge required a fic to be 500 words or fewer.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Writing prompts and challenges [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805341
Comments: 4
Kudos: 35
Collections: Name That Author Round Six





	Taken Away to Our Own Side

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [Sk3tch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sk3tch) for the brilliant title! It's a play on lyrics from [Riptide](https://genius.com/Vance-joy-riptide-lyrics) by Vance Joy for reasons that will quickly become apparent.
> 
> And of course massive thanks to [Faye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/isleofsolitude) for running this NTA round!

It wasn’t working.

It hadn’t been working for a long while now. They’d been trying, but it was hard – too hard – to break past so many years, centuries, _millennia_ of habits forced by brutal circumstance. They were caught in a riptide of doublespeak, meaning hidden beneath layers of language and references and familiar phrases. They’d been dragged along by the riptide for so long, doing all they could just to fight for air, and it felt like it was never going to let them out the other end.

The Apocalypse had come and gone, and it seemed there was still that invisible force keeping them away from solid land. They’d tried swimming against it – hard, direct – but that was exhausting, and would never truly work. Riptides didn’t work that way.

Had either of them been human, or thought to look at the problem in a human way, they might have figured the solution out sooner. But then, had either of them been human, they wouldn’t have been in quite the same situation in the first place. As it was, all they knew was that it wasn’t working. They were speaking, and being heard, but not fully _understood_.

It didn’t take much, in the end. A couple of steps closer, too close, not close enough. A caught breath, a shaking gasp. Eyes glancing up, locking together. And there, _there_ was a flicker of understanding – just a glimmer of it, just below the surface.

Something else, too. Hope, it looked like. Desperate hope.

Closer again, by half a step. Reaching out, tentatively. A hand on a cheek. A silent wish, almost a prayer, that this – _this_ at least – would not be misunderstood.

A response – eyelids fluttered closed, a lean into the contact, a shiver at the touch. Then eyes open again. An echoing response, a mirrored touch. Proximity, immediacy, _intimacy_.

There they were again. Opposites. Reflections.

But no, that couldn’t be true anymore. Not now, not after everything. They weren’t all that different. They weren’t that far apart.

_Our own side._

This was it. The moment to break through that invisible barrier, that glass-hard surface tension. Words were too messy, too layered with meaning. They needed something else now. Something simple and clear, impossible to misunderstand.

No words. Only action. _Let me speak in tongues with you._

It was like nothing either of them had ever felt. It was soft and gentle and aching. Hesitant at first, but requited. Firmer now, then deeper. Deeper.

 _I can feel you. I can taste you._ Lips, mouths, tongues. _I can hear you. You can hear me._

_We are understood._

It was like being lifted straight up out of the water, being given space and air to breathe, and suddenly having the rush of everything around you being taken away. Nothing else mattered now – they were out of the riptide. They were safe, and understood, and loved.

Metaphorically, they’d learned to float.

In their hearts, they’d learned to fly.


End file.
